Stillborn
by DinosaursOnASpaceship
Summary: Post BDM. Zoe comes to and faces the unthinkable.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't the pain that finally woke Zoe up. Quite the opposite really. The hours of pain — intense and unrestricted — seemed to become infinite to her. Worlds and societies and humanity were burned out by it, searing and grotesque. But now, only a numb throbbing remained, the footprint of what had once been her everything.

Slowly, Zoe let her eyes adjust and her mind followed suit, albeit a couple seconds behind. Pale blue lighting. Sterile. Infirmary. Serenity's. Zoe's stiff neck rose despite fatigue and her eyes were drawn to the expanding of her own swollen stomach. But why? Was it the blood? Should've been, there was just so much of it. Dried up and a deep maroon now, splatters all the way to where her feet made little hills in the blankets. It was concentrated around her mid-section, her bloated belly. But no, it wasn't the blood. It was the swollen bit. Not swollen enough. She could see her feet.

Oh god.

Memories flooded back then — no, not flooded. They drowned. The overwhelming recollection knocked Zoe's head back into the hard pillow. She'd— She'd had the child? Her little baby girl. Where was she? The emptiness of the infirmary, which hadn't been important before, suddenly screamed in Zoe's mind. So did the blood. Something was wrong and a horrible dread pounded in Zoe's every inch of being.

Ignoring the stiff numbness of her muscles, Zoe struggled to her feet, determination outweighing the woozy. Bare feet stumbled across the icy metallic floors. Felt like she was walking on death. There was no longer thoughts in her mind, just wild pangs of desperation. Her hands fumbled against the com.

_Hello?!_

No response. Seconds ticked by, but Zoe stood frozen in the chill of her own darkness. The click, when it finally came, didn't help the way she thought it would.

"Zoe…" For a moment, Zoe's mind lost its footing and fell back into the folds as a name formed — solid and heavy — in the very back of Zoe's throat. The longing to say it, prove it overpowered even her steely rational. But then the voice came again and Zoe's mistake was realized and tormented and shoved aside. Mal. 'Course it was Mal. "Stay put. I'm coming down." Zoe didn't respond, just let her hand fall limp against her side. There was an unmistakeable death in Mal's voice, resolve that came from denial. She knew it well, heard it too many times before.

_Later, Zoe, later—he's already dead!_

_Wash…_

_I know, Zoe, I know. I need you focused, Zoe_

Zoe knew and she was afraid.


	2. Chapter 2

Zoe hadn't needed to hear Mal's words to know, but he'd said them anyways. Nothing sugar coated or sandwiched between verbal pity. He'd used that one word, that was it, and then turned. His intentions seemed to be for Zoe to follow, but his body language was wishing she wouldn't.

Shepherd's old room was where they all had congregated. It was as if they thought his room still had that holy spirit to say the proper prayers none of them knew. Well Mal knew. He knew them all, but even in the light of circumstance he kept them shut away. This was just more proof of the uselessness of this god fellow. One of his arms was looped around Zoe's waist. _When you can't run, you crawl. And when you can't crawl, you find someone to carry you._

The little crate —" Blue Sun" stamped ruthlessly on the side — was neatly centered on the sheetless bed. No one spoke, their eyes doing enough talking as they all stared despondently at the box. And what it contained. Kaylee's muffled sobs, breathless and saturated, were the only sounds in the room. This was how Zoe found them, her crew. Each one sat at a different level, each one mourning in their own way. All of them. All of them that were left. Zoe's entrance had gone unnoticed. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe they just didn't know how to acknowledge her. What do you say to a person whose future and hope had died before it even began? I'm sorry doesn't quite seem to cut it.

Zoe weakly detached herself from Mal. The wooziness had returned, but Zoe pushed it back and took a step forward. Then another. Each step brought her closer. Closer to the small crate, no longer than her gun. Zoe was a fighter, always had been even as a small child, but at this moment every instinct she had told her to flee. As much as she knew it, had known even without Mal's saying, Zoe knew that it wasn't real yet. It wouldn't be real 'til she saw it for herself. And when she did… Zoe didn't know if she trusted her own mind anymore. As her foot landed on its final step and the contents of the crate could be seen, Zoe didn't look. Not right away. She just—

Holding her breath to keep herself from shaking, Zoe lifted her head and willed her eyes to see.

The little thing in the box couldn't be called a baby. Babies were seeds, little things with every potential oozing from them with every new thing they learned and sight they say. This wrinkled creature, tiny and red and still didn't have any of that. She — if you could even call it a she— would never see the world and all it's little joys. She'd never take her first step or learn her first word. Life had decided that this girl, this little shriveled creature, this last part of Zoe and Wash— That it didn't deserve to live.

Death. Not hope, not love, not anything. Just that big black of nothing. Zoe's eyes were stuck on the corpse — so small. Oh god, so damn small. That was what had been inside her, what had grown and kicked and gave Zoe that spark to keep going. But now…

A shudder, involuntary and unendurable, rippled through Zoe. Every part of her longed to do something different, tearing her insides apart. She wanted to scream, to cry, to fight, to kill, to die. Air pressed against the inside of her lungs, but breath wouldn't leave. It held tight and strong as agony the likes Zoe'd never known crawled beneath her skin and poisoned her heart. She hated the thing in the box. She hated it because she had loved it so much and for so long. But now it had gone, left her. And it was probably her own fault. Waves of unbearable anguish made Zoe's hands numb. Another moment she'd react, she could feel that much moving slowing through her body.

The eyes of the dead baby were open ever so slightly — two little unwavering slits— no one having the courage to close them properly. For a moment the pain subsided. Zoe could still do something for her little girl. She leaned down, the metallic stench of death too noticeable to ignore. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she touched her finger tips to it's eye lids. "Goodnight sweet girl." Zoe's voice was gentle and soothing. She kept her tone even using every collapsing bit of strength. "I'll see you in the morning." Zoe didn't move. She couldn't. This couldn't be it.

The agony was back and she knew the climax of it was about to hit. Voices yelled inside her mind— Or maybe some were from around her. Kaylee and Inara had gotten up and their mouths were moving, but all Zoe heard were disconnected screams.

_You're fault… Just like Wash… Dead… You couldn't save her… What's the point of you?_

Her head was pounding, pleading with the skull to let go and relieve it of this strain. Zoe clenched her jaw together, lips pressing so hard against her teeth, she could taste blood. The voices weren't voices just screeches. Her world was spinning… spinning… spinning. All except the monster in the box. That thing was still. Perfectly still. Zoe's vision was going all funny and white and she naively wished for death, screamed soundlessly for it to take her away too. She couldn't breath. She couldn't think she couldn't—

Nothing.

The world came back. The yelling stopped. The pressure released. Gone. All of it. Zoe's eyes turned dull and her back slackened. A void had come, sucking away all of Zoe. She turned wordlessly around, dumb and hollow. She didn't need to see it anymore. There was nothing left to see. There was nothing left to feel. Zoe just walked away.


End file.
